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Meant To Be Hers
Joan Kilby
Some loves can’t be deniedA lot has changed since for musical prodigy Finn Farrell since he spent his summers practicing with his piano teacher—and falling for her socialite niece, Carly Maxwell. After blowing his audition for Julliard, Finn turned his back on performing, his romance with Carly collateral damage.When their paths cross a decade later, it’s impossible to ignore much how they’ve grown apart. But what hasn’t changed is how comfortably they fit, or their heart-pounding attraction. Now a high-powered executive, Carly has a life a world away from songwriter Finn’s, but she has big dreams for both of them, if she can show Finn he’s worth it.
Some loves can’t be denied
A lot has changed for musical prodigy Finn Farrell since he spent his summers practicing with his piano teacher—and falling for her socialite niece, Carly Maxwell. After blowing his audition for Julliard, Finn turned his back on performing, his romance with Carly collateral damage.
When their paths cross a decade later, it’s impossible to ignore how much they’ve grown apart. But what hasn’t changed is how comfortably they fit, or their heart-pounding attraction. Now a high-powered executive, Carly has a life a world away from songwriter Finn’s, but she has big dreams for both of them, if she can show Finn he’s worth it.
When JOAN KILBY isn’t writing her next Harlequin Superromance title, she loves to travel, often to Asia, which is right on Australia’s doorstep, so to speak. Now that her three children are grown, she and her husband enjoy the role reversal of taking off and leaving the kids to take care of the house and pets.
Also By Joan Kilby (#ube5c60b3-9fbb-55b2-a188-9ff6a0f8665d)
Home to Hope Mountain
Maybe This Time
To Be a Family
Protecting Her Son
Two Against the Odds
In His Good Hands
Her Great Expectations
How to Trap a Parent
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Meant to Be Hers
Joan Kilby
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08468-0
MEANT TO BE HERS
© 2018 Joan Kilby
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“Are you in your old room?” Finn asked.
“Uh-huh. Down the end of the hallway.”
“I know.”
Carly twisted her head to peer at him. “How d’you know?”
“I used to watch your lit window on summer nights.” He’d ridden his bike across town, from his family’s small home in a poor neighborhood to this heritage home on South Hill—which his mom called Snob Hill. Except that Irene was no snob and Carly...well, she’d never once made him feel lesser because of where he lived or who he was. But her father was an investment banker and Carly seemed to have inherited his drive to succeed in business. Finn had no problem with a good work ethic; he had one himself. But what had Irene said? Carly was pushing herself too hard, working all the time. What did she have to prove?
Carly’s face lit with a delighted grin. “You couldn’t have seen anything. I always drew the curtains.”
“Your silhouette was very sexy.”
“Liar. I was a beanpole.”
Not anymore, he thought. She was shapely in all the right places.
Dear Reader (#ube5c60b3-9fbb-55b2-a188-9ff6a0f8665d),
Writing this final letter to you is bittersweet—my first published romance novel was a Superromance and the line will always hold a special place in my heart.
It’s only fitting that my final Superromance, Meant to Be Hers, is a book of my heart. In my twenties I lived in a series of group houses where friends, friends of friends and strangers who became friends created a kind of family. We lived together, ate together, drank together, shared the rent and the chores and the ups and downs of everyone’s lives. Just as in Meant to Be Hers, a lot of the socializing took place in the kitchen and around the dining table. In the last group house I lived in I met my husband-to-be. We went from housemates to falling in love to getting married and starting our own family.
Meant to Be Hers is about other things, too—rediscovering a career passion, dealing with loss, navigating a path to happiness and, of course, finding that special person, the one you’re meant to be with.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing the journey with me.
Joan Kilby
PS: This isn’t goodbye. I’m still writing, with many more stories to tell. Look for them at joankilby.com (http://www.joankilby.com).
This book is for all my readers, everywhere. Because of you, I’ve spent my life doing what I love—telling stories.
Contents
Cover (#u69bc90d5-c9d0-534f-96b9-d2222543ed51)
Back Cover Text (#u2034bffb-6a6a-5683-a0ac-627f757dcea0)
About the Author (#u4f3e351d-0301-54b9-b4c4-6eecc8b0df64)
Booklist (#uaa522efd-b9e6-5d8b-9a8e-06515e3052e4)
Title Page (#uc01cac13-6d8e-520e-9e5c-8917b7b11974)
Copyright (#uc769cd86-739b-5c32-8120-dda6c514012e)
Introduction (#u901e19c9-36fa-5966-b370-c40ee2f5ee39)
Dear Reader (#u1c7c5896-28dd-53bc-8183-42d40f476a88)
Dedication (#uaa25678b-a638-5663-91d6-df98dc501648)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc21eaf3c-fbaf-5294-b38d-123a824a8143)
CHAPTER TWO (#u8fe5d150-72e6-538d-be0e-328e400c548e)
CHAPTER THREE (#u8cd3dfa8-769b-5033-bda1-4bc6a2eb3043)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u0fbad926-80e9-5b19-abab-d27fa50787af)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u94e35107-2a8f-5545-b058-b8850435ba97)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ube5c60b3-9fbb-55b2-a188-9ff6a0f8665d)
WHERE WAS FINN? Carly Maxwell scanned the funeral guests clustered around her late aunt Irene’s living room for the tall, dark-haired musical prodigy. Finn Farrell had been Irene’s star pupil, his family’s greatest hope and Carly’s teenage crush. He should be here. He’d disappointed her aunt enough during her lifetime. Did he have to add to it after her death?
Carly moved among the guests, pouring tea from a huge earthenware teapot, trying to hold herself together when all she wanted to do was curl up under the covers and bawl her eyes out. It didn’t help that she was still on New York time and jet-lagged.
“More tea, Brenda?” Carly paused before her cousin, a comfortably plump blonde in her early forties who had sunk deep into soft sofa cushions.
“Yes, please.” Brenda’s blue eyes were sympathetic as Carly poured unsteadily into a hand-thrown pottery mug. “You’ve been on your feet since early this morning. Can I take the tea around for you?”
“Thanks, but no,” Carly said. “If I stop moving I might never get going again.”
In fact, she hadn’t stopped the entire week, from the moment she’d heard about Irene’s death. Finn’s Facebook message had popped into her work inbox like a Molotov cocktail, exploding her crammed diary into shards of missed meetings, unreturned phone calls and hurried apologies. Rushing back to her apartment, she’d listened to voice mail messages from her aunt’s neighbor, Frankie, who was worried about Irene’s dog, and Irene’s lawyer, Peter King, who said her aunt had listed Carly as next of kin.
Carly had caught the red-eye from New York to Seattle, rented a car, and driven up to Fairhaven, Washington, an historic district at the south end of Bellingham. Grief-stricken and in a daze, she’d arranged for a celebrant, put notices in the newspapers and on Irene’s social media, organized the funeral home and the caterers. After the service Carly had invited everyone to Irene’s three-story Queen Anne home on South Hill for the reception.
Now here they all were. With barely a moment yet to shed a tear she had a feeling she would look back and think the organizing and activity was the easy part. Dealing with her grief was going to be harder.
“Sit down a moment, at least.” Brenda patted the taupe cushion next to her. “We haven’t had a chance to talk.”
Carly sank onto the couch, cradling the warm teapot against her navy suit jacket. “Could you hear me okay when I was giving the eulogy? I wasn’t sure if I spoke loudly enough.” She’d choked up, every painful pause thick with sorrow. Several of Irene’s friends and music students had also spoken. One young girl broke down completely and had to be led off by her mother.
“You were great.” Brenda clutched a damp, shredded tissue. “I couldn’t have done it.”
Carly blinked away the salty moisture burning her eyes. “I can’t believe she’s gone. Only fifty-eight.”
“Fifty-eight going on eighteen,” Brenda said with a watery smile. “She was so much fun.”
“Thank God she isn’t alive to witness her own funeral.” Carly glanced around at the somber faces. A girl drooped over the keyboard of the Steinway grand piano, softly picking out minor chords. The gloomy atmosphere was at odds with Irene’s uproarious house parties in happier days. “She would have hated all this weeping into hankies.”
“Everyone’s shell-shocked,” Brenda said. “Irene was so full of life, it’s hard to believe she could die so quickly. I guess that’s what can happen with a brain aneurysm.”
“Is it?” Carly asked dully. “I have no idea.”
“I Googled it,” Brenda said. “Sometimes people survive but have brain damage. Sometimes they go like that.” She clicked her fingers.
“Don’t, please,” Carly begged. “I can’t help thinking that if someone had been with her, she might have survived.” And not just anyone—her. If she’d accepted Irene’s invitation to go on the Alaska cruise, her aunt might be alive today.
“You shouldn’t torture yourself. That’s an impossible question to answer.” Brenda sighed and patted Carly’s arm. “It’s good to see you, even under the circumstances.”
“Are you staying in town long?”
“I have to go back to Portland tomorrow. Work.”
“I should be going back to work, too, but there’s too much to do here.” Carly chewed the inside of her cheek, tasting blood. The timing of Irene’s death couldn’t have been worse from her perspective. Her high-pressure job as a recruitment consultant for executives had started only a few months ago and already she’d had to ask for time off.
